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“Be honest. How did it go?” she asked, her voice rising. “Because I’d really like to know. Did he say something like, ‘Give her time, soldier.’ Did he say, ‘Watch her, watch her closely, and there’ll come a day when you’ll feel free to walk away’?”
“It wasn’t like that.” Christ, didn’t she know he’d never be free? The rest of his goddamn life he’d remember her, he’d remember every moment with her, from the day he spotted her chasing after that feckless dog to those hours last night when he’d held her against his heart.
Her whole body pivoted to face him and she crossed her arms over the chest of her snowman sweats. They were thick, white cotton and so unsexy that his mind shouldn’t be drifting that way at all, but just the mere glimpse of the slender column of her neck had him thinking about how it had tasted under his tongue, how she’d slid her fingers through his hair and brought his head lower…
“Then what was it like?” she demanded.
Sweet, he remembered. And hot. So damn arousing. His mouth tingled and he almost felt the stiff nub of her nipple against his tongue.
“Noah?” Her voice was sharp.
He tried snapping back to the question at hand, but she was too quick for him. “Never mind,” she said, turning her back on him again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Juliet, I’m sorry—”
“I said it doesn’t matter!” Then her voice cooled, slowed. “And I’m sorry, too. I had no right…not when you’ve done your job. You should feel good about that.”
He felt like shit about that comment. “It hasn’t been just a job, Juliet.”
She nodded. “I know. I get that. You’ve been a good, um, pal. Not just to me, of course. There was all that you did for Wayne, too.”
Pal? God, this was torture. Noah closed his eyes. “I liked your husband very much.”
“He was a worthy man.”
“The best.” Better than Noah, that was sure.
She turned to face him again, so damn beautiful whether it was in snow-sweats or Shakespearean velvet or bare-naked between the sheets of his imagination.
“Juliet…” There was so much he wanted, and so much he wanted to say.
She plowed on. “I hope you realize how much he thought of you, too, Noah. I know he considered you a real friend.”
“Yeah?” A real friend? Christ, he couldn’t take this. And worse, she was gazing on him as if he was some sort of self-sacrificing, decent-minded Dudley Do-Right.
“Yes,” she said, a little frown digging a line between her eyebrows. “A real friend.”
“God!” He shoved his hands through his hair, then let his arms drop to his side. “God!” He really didn’t think he could do this anymore. He really didn’t think he could play noble Noah for one more moment.
And who could blame him? Just hours ago he was inches away from wild monkey sex with the woman and he’d ended up with ashes instead—another man’s ashes. Jesus Christ, it was enough to provoke even the Boy Scout she considered him to be.
“Noah?” She moved forward and placed one cool hand on his forearm.
He steeled himself not to react to the touch.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
It was him, he was all wrong. But with her hand on him, with the thousand fantasies he’d had of her flooding his head, he couldn’t hold back an instant longer. “Christ, Juliet, do you suppose he’d still consider me a ‘real friend’ if he knew the truth?”
“The truth?” she echoed.
“Yeah.” He laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it.
“What truth? What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say I doubt the general would consider me a real friend if he knew how goddamn much I’ve always wanted to make love to his wife.”
There. That should do it. Those words and her shocked reaction to them would surely give him the push he needed to walk away from her.
Except she was only staring at him, as her hand slipped off his arm. “W-What?”
He shook his head. Christ. No wonder she was confused when he was still prettying it up. “Let me be clear, Juliet. I don’t want to just kiss your cheek or hold your hand. I want to go to bed with you. I’ve always wanted to go to bed with you. Bad.”
She blinked. “You have? You do?”
“Oh, yeah. And I wouldn’t be what you’re used to, honey. I’m no officer and gentleman outside the blankets or underneath them either. I’m a guy from the streets who likes his sex sweaty and raunchy and more intimate than you can imagine.”
